When Clubs Collide

by Jacqueline Sinclair

  They don’t answer me as they follow me to the door. Their glowers burn my back. If their eyes were lasers, my ass would be burned to pieces. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll leave me alone. I grin to myself, secure in the knowledge that those biker boys are tracking me. After Roxanne’s accident, they aren’t taking any chances with me.

  Outside, I don’t bother turning around. Jessica Rabbit and Stick-up-the-ass Cretin aren’t worth acknowledging. As I reach the steps, he calls my name.

  I still refuse to turn, so I don’t know he’s at my back until I hear his whisper.

  “Watch your back, you old biddy. I don’t take too kindly to threats.”

  “That makes two of us,” I hiss, not in the least afraid. Creighton is on the up-and-up nowadays. I’m more of a threat to him, with my contacts, than he is to me. “Duke has twenty-four hours to contact me. Otherwise, I’m taking my story to the media.”

  He sucks in a breath. “We’ll see about that.”

  Edge

  Touché

  I’ve made it back to Miss Catherine’s home and what do I fucking find? An old man with the skin color of cocoa, dressed like he forgot it’s the twenty-first century greeting me at her door.

  I shove him aside with a firm hand to his old chest and enter the small home with my moon boot thumping on her wooden floors as I take in the empty house and look around.

  I know Miss C wouldn’t have no man answering her door if she was home. “Where’s Miss Catherine and who are you?”

  And that’s when I find myself looking down the business end of his loaded hand gun. “Lenny Charleston and who are you?” He looks me up and down. His aim is to look dangerous.

  Touché, old man.

  I should’ve learned by now not to underestimate old people. I can humor him, for now.

  “I asked first.”

  Lenny looks a bit stupefied by my counter response. I throw in a smile to lighten the mood.

  He’s not buying it.

  “I’m here on official business to look after Miss Catherine.” He actually puffs his chest out a little. Miss C has an admirer. Well, lookie at that. This makes me want to smile, but Lenny is taking his position very seriously. Another thing I don’t underestimate old people with, and that is aiming the business end of a gun at somebody. The chances are if he pulls that trigger he is gonna hit some part of me and I don’t need any more slowing down.

  Been there. Done that.

  “Hate to break it to you, buddy, but she’s been taking care of herself for a long time now.” I make a show of looking around. “By the way, where is she? I thought you were the man in charge?”

  Then a distant thought occurs to me. “Hey, you the guy who has been holding down Boxer’s bar with Paco while he’d been otherwise detained?”

  “Who is askin’?”

  Lenny’s got balls.

  I want to roll my eyes. “Edge, is askin’…” I point to myself, “and Edge is starting to get mighty annoyed because he is looking for Miss Catherine so he can escort her to Whisper and she doesn’t appear to be where she should be.”

  “Where’s Miss Whisper at? She okay?” Fear is rife in his gravelly voice. The man sounds like he knows nothing of what’s gone down, but if he’s been trusted by Boxer with Miss Catherine’s safety, then he’s okay with me.

  “She will be. She needs some cheering up and that is all I am at liberty to tell you. If Boxer hasn’t enlightened you about what’s been going down, then I ain’t about to either.”

  “I’m not stupid. I know Mr. Boxer up and gone missin’ and Miss Catherine askin’ me to tend the bar with Paco until further notice. I know Miss Whisper up and gone missin’ too. I might be old, but I am far from clueless in this town. You sure Boxer be bringin’ Miss Whisper home with him?”

  “That I am sure of, Lenny, and you can stop waving that gun in my direction. I won’t be hurting you. I’m on Boxer’s and Whisper’s side.”

  I wait until he lowers the gun and then I snatch it off him and unload it before he can react and hand him the empty gun back. “Now that we’re on an even playing field, how ‘bout we get back to one missing old lady who should be under your watchful eye.” I sit down at Miss C’s kitchen table to take a load off my foot and place the bullets down on it. “Where did you let her escape to, Lenny?”

  There is a look of dejection clear on Lenny’s face as he pulls a chair out and sits down with me, laying the gun in front of him on the table.

  “She’s with a friend named Pearllene in New Orleans spendin’ a few hours at the Cake Café. She be back later this afternoon.” He looks away a little uncomfortable and then he meets my eyes again. “She just wanted a distraction with her lady friend.”

  Miss Catherine has dissed Lenny’s one job and that was to guard her. I think I feel sorry for Lenny.

  “How old are you Lenny?”

  “Eighty.” His chin chucks up in the air.

  “Lenny, you know how to ride a Harley?”

  “No, sir.” I’ve been elevated to a respectful level.

  I let out a tired sigh. I’ve been up for nearly two days straight. “Worth a shot. Well, I’ll be getting out of your hair and taking myself off to find Miss Catherine. I’ll keep you posted. Good talking to you Lenny Charleston and best of luck for the future with Miss Catherine.”

  I shake his hand and get up and walk out the door, leaving Lenny sitting at the table with a mystified look on his face to go find my Harley, which should be parked around back in Miss C’s yard with the keys in my saddlebag.

  Billy did good. It’s exactly where he said it would be. He had one of his staff from Freedom On Two Wheels return it to Miss Catherine’s place, after Slade borrowed it to pick up Phoenix in Texas a couple weeks ago.

  I’m no longer wearing the suit I had on in Alaska, having changed on the private plane into more comfortable biker wear, I had Lethal bring to me before takeoff.

  I rummage through my saddlebag. It’s time to put my cut back on and make a quick call to let Miss Catherine know to stay put and I’m coming for her.

  Sometimes even the simplest things, don’t go according to plan.

  Miss Catherine

  When Trouble Don’t Take No Vacation

  Our catch up in New Orleans been goin’ just fine at the Cake Café on Chartres Street in the Marigny District. A beautiful old Creole two level home sittin’ on the corner of two streets they gone and converted into the eatery. All butter cream yellow painted board on the exterior with dem dark green shutters that be makin’ the outside pop. One of my favorite places to be eatin’ in New Orleans.

  Pearllene be a spring chicken at only seventy. We go back a ways, near twenty years. I been neglectin’ visitin’ with her since Whisper be comin’ into our lives.

  “Pearllene, how is your lunch?”

  She be raisin’ her head and smilin’ at me, diggin’ into her plate of mustard greens with a side of white rice and a portion of that cornbread that be tastin’ so good. The pot likker—the juice from the greens—be poolin’ on her plate. “This is delicious.”

  Pearllene always be one for good food. We first met when she had to be doin’ community service at the shelter I be runnin’ for assaultin’ the man she been seein’. She say he hit her first but she ain’t stopped beatin’ on him by the time the police arrive, so they be takin’ her and let him be goin’ Scot free.

  She been fifty years old and actin’ like some wild child that don’t be havin’ a lick of sense. We started comparin’ recipes at the women’s shelter and before long a friendship be born. Dem bones of mine be tellin’ me Pearllene a good woman.

  I eat my red beans and rice in silence for a few minutes, enjoyin’ the cool breeze. New Orleans durin’ the holiday season be beautiful. All through the Quarter, garland be decoratin’ the balconies and balustrades.

  Pearllene lays her fork aside and be sippin’ her iced tea. Settin’ her glass down, she leans back.

  “What’s been goin’ on with
you?” I goad. “How’s dem kids?” She got three of dem but her youngest, Roxanne, be her favorite. Roxy be the one sticking by Pearllene’s side good and proper.

  “Roxy’s up in Hortensia. In Washington, about thirty minutes from Portland, Oregon,” she says, soundin’ a little sad. “Her oldest is married to a biker and Bailey needed her help.”

  Edge be crossin’ my mind, but I be stayin’ silent. I don’t want our time to be takin’ a downturn, so I be changin’ the subject. “You be datin’ anybody now?”

  She pats her hair and studies her nails. She be comin’ from good stock. Her brown skin barely got a wrinkle, and her salt-and-pepper hair be cut in a trendy short do. She be keepin’ herself well put together. “Hamish is his name. We get along fine, although I worry I’m robbing the cradle.”

  “How old he be?” Never such thing as robbin’ the cradle unless his name be Lenny.

  “Sixty-five years old. A fine gentleman. Started on Viagra just for me. His Yankee Doodle Doo wasn’t doodling, but he got that fixed.”

  “He wasn’t the only one be needin’ fixin’, Pearllene. You might got an itch but you be needin’ help gettin’ it scratched. It got to be drier than a forest in summer.”

  “We experiment with that, too. Last week, I used a little bacon grease down there. I made it nice and tasty for him before he oiled his doodler.”

  I burst out laughin’, smackin’ the table with my palm. Pearllene sure can distract me from my worryin’ over Whisper’s safe return with stories like dem.

  We laugh some more as we be catchin’ up on the time we been apart. I tell her about Lenny who is waitin’ on me at home and keep Whisper and my worries a secret. This be a tale to be tellin’ at another of our lunches.

  We be turnin’ our attention to finishin’ our food and orderin’ dessert when dem bones of mine start chatterin’ away.

  A black shiny Mercedes be pullin’ up to the curb while we be finishin’ off our coffee. Two men wearin’ flashy suits and dark sunglasses lookin’ in their thirties climb out and head for our outside table that we be sittin’ at around the corner from the main entrance. Edge would be callin’ them Ebony and Ivory.

  I be goin’ to grab Pearllene’s arm in warnin’ when the other two chairs be swiftly pulled out and I’m bein’ prodded in the stomach by a nasty gun.

  “Ladies.” Thug One, Ivory, the blond haired and stockier of dem two be acknowledgin’ us. Pearllene in particular.

  She looks down to where Thug Two’s hand be disappearin’ and I’m guessin’ he got a loaded gun on her, too. She be givin’ dem a right dirty glare.

  “I know you motherfuckers not aiming guns at us.” Pearllene ain’t gonna be frightened by these thugs. “Hey, don’t I know you two from Cretin’s house? Did he send you after me?”

  “Shut it, bitch. I’m not answering anything here. Get up and start walking to the car.”

  I be wishin’ I had my own weapon, right about now. I ain’t afraid to be shootin’ no man who wantin’ to be harmin’ my friend.

  Thug One be speakin’ directly to Pearllene. “We need you and your lady friend here to get up without any fuss and come for a drive with us. You don’t…” He trails off and we both be gettin’ jabbed with dem silencers as incentive.

  And that’s when my phone be startin’ to sing the chorus to ‘Bang Bang’ by Jessie J on the table by my hand. Blueblood thought it be funny to give me Edge’s new number with a personalized ringtone before they all be leavin’ for Alaska.

  I snatch it up and quickly answer it and be statin’ the words, ‘Aunt Maude’ clearly, soundin’ exasperated before hangin’ up. Edge and I had worked a code name that meant I be in major trouble. I be knowin’ I had seconds to react and be actin’ like I didn’t want to speak to this Maude person if the situation be arisin’. I figured this be one of those situations. No matter how much I be wantin’ to hear how Whisper be doin’, I needed to be alive, first.

  I just rang dem alarm bells. Not that he be able to be helpin’ me because he be in Alaska with Whisper. A wave of fear be flowin’ through my body as realization hits. Nobody be here to be helpin’ us.

  Mothertrucker.

  Mortician

  Dry Spell

  I jam a cigarette into the corner of my mouth, inventorying my special tools, where they are laid out on the autopsy table in the meatshack. The small outbuilding, located off one of the pathways on clubhouse grounds, hasn’t seen much action recently. Threats to the MC has been extinguished and all motherfuckers are behaving. I’d go so far to say things have been boring.

  The pliers scrape against the metal table. I lift the tool, remembering all the finger and toe nails I’ve torn off. Grabbing my cigarette butt between my thumb and forefinger, I flick ashes away and throw the pliers aside. It clangs next to the ice pick. Prez has jammed it into many knee caps. I’ve jammed it other places.

  I flip the pick, catching it by the sharp end, then throw it on the table with its comrades. A small breeze blows through the ajarred door, and I get a whiff of chlorine. The smell of bleach isn’t as strong as it is right after I’ve performed a job and then washed down the table, counters, and floor, cleaning away all traces of body fluids.

  The faint scent comforts me.

  “Knock, knock.” Johnnie, the Dwellers’ VP, breezes through the door and grins at me, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Reminiscing, Mort?”

  Snickering, I nod. “Yeah, brother.”

  Johnnie shrugs. “We’ll get someone in here soon. I call fucking dibs. I have a dry spell myself.”

  My scowl doesn’t faze Johnnie. I’m the club’s enforcer but Johnnie’s the resident sociopath. He gets off on the scent of blood. Dude looks like your normal, everyday preppy boy, with blond hair and silver eyes. He seems so easygoing, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Underneath it all, however, is a stone-cold killer.

  Like me, although since I’ve married and become a father, I’ve toned it down. We all have. Yet, the darkness is there sometimes. The side of me that likes to scope out stupid motherfuckers who cross the club. If I’m sent on a job, bodies are left behind. That’s just the way it is.

  “How’s Roxy feeling?” Johnnie asks, referring to my mama-in-law, recovering from injuries she received when a dumb motherfucker thought he could get rid of her.

  “She’s okay,” I grunt out. Roxanne is sad about Knox. I know she’s been calling him. She thinks he’s ignoring her. I know better, but I’m keeping my mouth shut. I don’t want to fuck up her holidays by mentioning the dude. “Where Red at today?”

  “Kendall’s at home, instructing the housekeeper and nanny.”

  That’s what Red does best—order motherfuckers around. She’s most exceptional at controlling Johnnie. Of course, dumb ass allows himself to be controlled, afraid she’ll leave him. Whatever. If Johnnie’s happy with Red’s bossiness, I’m fucking ecstatic.

  We shoot the shit for a few minutes, discussing plans for our weekly dinner that will be held at my house this time.

  “I’m going to head to the club,” Johnnie informs me.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  There’s nothing left for me to see. My tools and working area are still sterilized. All surface areas are spotless. My black rubber apron hangs from a coat hook. My rubber boots stand nearby, looking lonely and forgotten.

  If I open a cabinet, I know I’ll find all my saws. Everything is as it should be, therefore I head out.

  Pearllene

  Sometimes You Can Over Accessorize

  I sit in the back of the car, fuming. Thug Two is seated beside me, gun pointed at me, while Miss Catherine sits up front with the driver. I don’t like being separated from her. She’s so small.

  My cane rests at my feet. I just need an opportunity to bat the fuck out of them with it. Until that time comes, I need to remind them of a real important fact.

  “If you kill us, asshole, that pathetic little ass Creighton referred to is my grandson-in-law and he will make mince
meat of you.” I don’t exactly know what an enforcer at a motorcycle club does, but it’s logical to think a little head-bashing and ball-busting is involved. “Let Miss Catherine and me go, if you know what’s good for you. What do you want with us, anyway?”

  The tall, skinny bastard with the dark skin holding the gun on me appears bored. “We don’t want us. We want you. The other one just happened to be present.” He glances at my diamond ring, just as he did earlier today at Creighton’s.

  “I know you two. You think you’re fooling me with the dark sunglasses, but I recognize your clothes. Take those shades off and show your faces.”

  “Shut the fuck up, old lady. We don’t need to do nothing you say.”

  Creighton’s boys followed me? I wouldn’t put it past my sneaky bastard of an ex-son-in-law to have me removed from the equation. He wants Duke all to himself. That knowledge pisses me off. If I ball my fist and sock him in his fat trap, maybe I can knock some damn teeth out. I’m just biding my damn time. Once we stop, if I can distract them long enough for Miss Catherine to get away, I can do some damage. I might not move too quick anymore, but I can swing my cane. They’ve gotten quiet and I don’t like that.

  “What the fuck do you want with me?”

  “You’ll be good to squeeze a few hundred thousand dollars from the big spender then. We looked the Death Dwellers up. They’re suspected in a lot of shit, but no one can ever make anything stick. If he has the dollars to buy you big ass diamonds, he has the money to line our pockets. We’re taking you to a place where you’ll never be found, so you’re both at our mercy.”

  Shit. That doesn’t sound like a move Creighton would make. If he’s involved, I figured I’d get roughed up a bit for invading his exalted mansion and then released. If he isn’t behind this…Mercy. We’d be at the whims of these two thuggish dickheads.